Sounds Like a Job for an Ordinary

I'd like to spend the next couple of days streaming here. I've many things to clear up. Have been in love for several weeks - no, longer, but forget how I commenced to really love her. Maybe it was the way she listened with one ear seemingly cocked for her son; she was always bringing him up. Tried to help when she said he got injured doing sports. Second opinion was sought. Carrrumba... what gall on my part to agree and suggest physiotherapeutic measures. Fell into it, and fell in love. Couldn't do much more. I wasn't praying for her and him then. I figured they were regular people with no outstanding problems. Being a pauper and much demurring, I sure couldn't horn in and take command. Now I've got to wait until the right time to spill my guts to her.

Oh, I remember now. When we first met. Enchanté! We talked about restaurants. The old German place on Indian School (now closed; went there for schnitzel) and the French Corner. I suggested the bistro on 16th Street, Coup des Tartes. Forgot about Sophie's. (That would be Serge and the crew.) And didn't mention Guy or Blueberry Hill. Yowza... how to tell her about the adventures with Omar and Larry let alone the tangles with the boys there.? Let it slide.

Since that encounter, there's been a problem - she never asks me how I am upon the opening of an internet channel of communication. I figure she's gotten a low-down not from the respective horses mouth. Well, the French do have an attitude and condescend to the natives. I take them up. Never any problem there. Not my problem they've not been brief properly. Do the best we can. Jesus is Lord and relax.

Paula at Mighty Cup says the flowers are the Friendship Plant. Ensconced thither now. Yes, will write up a bunch, continuing tomorrow. There'll be hot-air balloons here so some photo opportunities as well. Fading fast. Somewhat hungry. Chicken Cream Chowder awaits and I've got to process some shots pretty quick. So, feeling better already and I'll be back.

J'ai acheté un livre aujourd'hui ... Maigret et la vielle dame.

Est-ce que lire ce soir, quand je m'installe. Encours!

Il devrait être toute une expérience. Nous l'espérons.

Went from the Denny's to Spuds. Pubbed as we groove here.

Was reminded of coming between my deceased parents during the 2001 World series. I'd call them after a game (We had taken in the first game together. A B-2 flew directly over the parking lot at 59th and Cactus beforehand; stopped to get treats.) to congratulate each upon the victory of their respective teams. Another story - I shan't ruin it in a premature telling.

Unfortunately, am further reminded of when my father and I were watching a Yankee game years before. My vicious sister (not to be confused with the lout) made a comment which completely ruined our pleasure in the moment. Her visage presented like Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity as Fred Murray did the deed. A neanderthal gossip, I stood up to her and defended the principle of self-defence. What an ignoramus. The other one is worse, and a lousy goad to boot. They deserve each other. They're still unsaved after all these years of testimony and prayer. Time to move on.

My dishonorable brother is an out and out traitor to mine being.

Metaphysical murderer, he is, feeling justified of himself.
I invite him to have me committed... wait a minute -

might present a conflict of interest. His own entirely.

Of course this all goes way back. They have never been the least bit interested in me nor anything I communicate. They're not saved and I've got to consign them to hell, a hell of their choosing no doubt, where they can meet their vain and abusive parents. That's right, and that's tough. It's surely not easy saying one is a son of God. I'm happy to have been selected.

And very happy to be saved. I'm getting more accustomed to the Baptist's tangles. Funniest thing... a woman in church asked me years ago what my background was; you know, you simply do not want to go into it. I don't remember what the set-up was but the punch line went, "The only Baptist I knew was Nelson Rockefeller." With regard to the "background information," only a mate will suffice toward fully informing someone, if indeed that is necessary. Well, that seems to be what an engagement period is for.

I'm pushing 60, without cash and have nothing to look forward to.

Who'd want a thing to do with me? A conundrum I'll be praying over.
Looking forward to church tomorrow; I've been "called" for some time.
Told a pastor once, "I'm coming in and I want all my friends with me."

Am I to be raptured? Will they snicker? Have they denied me?

We'll see. In a clichéd sense, I suppose I'm burning a bridge.

So be it. They don't care and have never done so.

They were given every opportunity and rejected me. Right.

After a good sleep, I came to see that someone could research.

A further study of how Purgatorio came to be invented.
I feel very badly consigning anyone to eternal punishment.
Not my place, of course; maddening. Nothing wrong with me.

My immediate family is completely wound up in themselves.

I'm bottled up and if the French woman connects, look forward.

I told her what I told a fellow at old First Baptist in Phoenix:

"God wants me to minister to ministers." Is called "gotcher back."